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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26054662">The Perfect Confection</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Willow_bird/pseuds/Willow_bird'>Willow_bird</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Palmetto Academy Host Club [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>All For The Game - Nora Sakavic</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - No Exy, DisasterGay Andrew Minyard, Excessive use of italics, Gaaaaaaaay, Gen, I don't know how else to tag this, M/M, POV Andrew Minyard, Protective Neil Josten, The Perfect Confection (tm), VERY loosely based on 'Ouran High School Host Club', gay pining, its really gay?</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 10:33:54</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,389</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26054662</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Willow_bird/pseuds/Willow_bird</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Andrew is determined to find a dessert that Neil will like, and he thinks he's found The One. The <i>Perfect Confection</i>. Unfortunately, someone else apparently has their greedy little eyes on Andrew's delicious snack.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Andrew Minyard &amp; Kevin Day, Andrew Minyard &amp; The Foxes, Neil Josten &amp; Andrew Minyard, Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Palmetto Academy Host Club [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1855060</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>35</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>215</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Perfect Confection</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I have no excuse. This is raw, self-indulgent fluff. Basically, I was like "hey, i love reading fics where Andrew just is a bit of a disastergay and pines after Neil" then i was like "imma write one!" and then I added in sweets? I dunno. This is what happened. It can absolutely be read if you have no knowledge of OHSHC but the ridiculousness of it may make more sense if you're at least familiar with the show. </p><p>Kudos and comments give me life &lt;3 I hope you enjoy!</p><p>((oh! And feel free to come visit me over on tumblr: <a href="https://www.tumblr.com/blog/kiirynilcc">kiirynilcc</a>))</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It started with decadence. A chocolate and raspberry confection made of dreams. </p><p>Andrew had stayed up late last night preparing it and had gotten up early in the morning to make sure that it was still intact as well as to add the finishing touches. Then he’d lovingly strapped it into the front seat surrounded by two pillows for extra security, relegating Aaron and Nicky to the backseat for the drive to school, utterly unmoved by their whines of complaint. As far as he was concerned, he absolutely had his priorities in order -- and that was the careful preservation of his lunchtime dessert over the shallow comforts of the two imbeciles he most regularly subjected himself to. </p><p>It wasn’t often that he brought his desserts to school -- well, that he brought his <i>homemade</i> desserts to school, anyway. The kitchen staff knew him well and there was always some sort of tasty treat set aside for him. Allison had also learned very well that he was considerably more amenable if the freezer they kept in the club room remained well-stocked with his favorite ice cream flavors. Since there was always something acceptable to nibble on while he was at school, he rarely felt the need to bring his own creations. That, and people seemed to be under the impression that if you brought something delicious to school they were somehow entitled to some of it -- and Andrew didn’t share. </p><p>Well, he didn’t share without <i>good reason</i>. </p><p>He intended on sharing today’s confection -- just a <i>bite</i> -- with Neil. And since he was bringing it with the intention of sharing it with the other boy (only a <i>bite</i>), he had perhaps spent more time than he usually would have ensuring that it was perfect. See, last week he’d learned that Neil (the fucking weirdo) <i>didn’t like sweets</i>. Unwilling to believe this was legitimate, Andrew had been setting various different desserts in front of him at each club meeting. He’d think that Neil was fucking with him if not for the genuine reactions of distaste each time the other boy had obediently tasted whatever Andrew had set in front of him. </p><p>But this time -- <i>this time</i> was going to be different. He’d figured out that Neil didn’t like anything that was overly sweet or sugary. The few times that Neil had shrugged and said “it’s okay” had been over desserts that had some sharpness to them. Milk chocolate was completely out, but the bitterness of dark chocolate didn’t directly offend him as long as it was mixed with something else. </p><p>Unwilling to settle for “it’s okay”, Andrew had spent most of the weekend pouring through his own recipe collection and experimenting before landing on <i>this</i> -- and damnit, this was going to be the one. </p><p>(He very pointedly spent <i>zero</i> energy wondering why he gave a shit about whether or not Neil liked some kind of dessert.)</p><p>The point was: Andrew had put a lot of fucking effort into this bowl of literal perfection, and he wasn’t going to tolerate any bullshit. So he packed the dessert carefully into the front seat, he snuggled it between its pillows and buckled it in nice and safe-like. He drove in the right-hand lane at <i>exactly</i> the speed limit, if not a little bit slower, and took his damn time slowing down for every single turn. He ignored the bitching and complaining from the back seat as he gently rolled over each individual speed bump in the school’s parking lot when they arrived, and honestly barely even paid any attention at all to the way Aaron and Nicky blitzed out of the car like it was on fucking fire when he finally parked.</p><p>He was too busy checking on The Perfection Confection to care.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>..:::||:::..</p>
</div>Andrew was surprised to find Neil in the club room when he arrived. As far as he understood it, Neil considered his whole gig with the Host Club to be an annoyance <i>at best</i> (which, really, he could understand that) -- or at the very least, an unnecessary distraction. He didn’t seem to understand that no one really gave a shit about that stupid vase and if he decided never to show up again, no one was going to hold it against him or do anything about it. It was one stupid, overpriced piece of shit in a sea of stupid, overpriced crap.<p>Still, <i>Andrew</i> wasn’t going to be the one to tell him. If Neil was too stupid to figure it out for himself he didn’t deserve to be told, so what if he was also one of the more tolerable people he’d met in this ridiculous school and Neil quitting the Host Club would also mean that Andrew would get to spend less time with him? <i>So what?</i> He didn’t care. He didn’t.</p><p>He also wasn’t even a little bit pleased to see Neil there when he walked through the door. Pleased was too strong of an emotion. Maybe… <i>satisfied</i> was better. Yes. He was <i>satisfied</i> at the <i>convenience</i> of Neil’s presence, since he’d gone through all this trouble to make and bring The Perfection Confection today. </p><p>“I wouldn’t think you’d make yourself suffer any more than necessary,” he drawled evenly as he made his way across the room with the bowl carefully cradled against his chest.</p><p>Neil looked up from whatever he was scribbling down. Andrew pretended not to notice his stupid face doing this stupid thing it did whenever the idiot realized that it was just him talking to him and not someone less tolerable. </p><p>“Actually, in the morning like this it isn’t so bad.” The idiot shrugged and gave a vague gesture to the empty room. Andrew followed the twitch of his hand with his gaze, looking about, then conceded the point with a small shrug. </p><p>“Fair enough.” He finished crossing the room and carefully set the bowl down right on top of Neil’s notes. The other boy gave him an annoyed glare, which Andrew ignored, and tried to tug his notebook free, which Andrew allowed by briefly lifting the bowl (as he was unwilling to risk it toppling over). </p><p>Once he’d finished fussing over his notes, Neil peered at the covered bowl with poorly-masked suspicion. “So… what’s this now?”</p><p>Andrew grinned. “<i>Perfection</i>, thank you very fucking much.” He basked in his own excellence for a moment before sighing and swatting away Neil’s hand as the other boy reached <i>rudely</i> for the bowl. “Not <i>now</i>, idiot. You get to try it at lunchtime, where everyone can see. That way, your reaction will be genuine and no one can try to cheat me out of my winnings.”</p><p>Neil raised a brow. “You’re betting on this?”</p><p>Andrew just blinked and gave him a blank stare that Neil wasn’t <i>too</i> thick to understand.</p><p>“Right,” Neil confirmed with a put-upon sigh. “You guys bet on fucking <i>everything</i>.” He shook his head. “What is even the point of it all? Don’t you rich kids have enough money?”</p><p>Andrew snorted, amused. “Who said we bet money?”</p><p>“You don’t?” Neil looked skeptical and Andrew shrugged, unbothered. </p><p>“Sure, sometimes. Usually, though, there are better stakes.”</p><p>“Uh-huh… right. So what’s in it for you then? If you win this particular bet?” There was this little, amused smile tugging at Neil’s lips, pulling it in just at the corners, deeper on one side than the other. His eyebrows were lifted and his eyes soft. So were his lips. Andrew just wanted to…</p><p>Andrew coughed and then lifted a finger, ticking it back and forth in admonishment (to himself as much as to the stupid idiot with his stupid face and his stupid mouth and his stupid eyes). “Ah-ah, none of that. I cannot be caught influencing the subject.”</p><p>Neil wrinkled his nose. “You make it sound like some weird experiment and I’m your… guinea pig or something.”</p><p>“More like a demented rabbit,” Andrew tossed back with an agreeing shrug. He saw no reason to refute the rest. </p><p>This time Neil laughed, the sound a short, hoarse bark that wasn’t really a laugh coming from any other person, but Andrew was finding that he was getting to know Neil’s expressions -- and sometimes they were different from what other people did when feeling the same thing. In this case: humor and astonishment, surprised out of being offended.</p><p>(He didn’t dwell on how the <i>detail</i> of that understanding said <i>a lot</i> about how closely he was paying attention to the stupid little idiot honor student.)</p><p>“What--?” Neil started, then shook his head. “You know what, I don’t even want to know. Take your… <i>Perfection</i> -- I’ve got about twenty minutes until first period, and I need to finish going over these notes.”</p><p>Quite pleased, Andrew smirked and gave the other boy his two-finger salute before scooping up The Perfection Confection so that he could take it to the fridge. If he returned to the table and spent the next twenty minutes playing on his phone while Neil did his studying, rather than heading off to find his brother or cousin or, well, doing <i>anything</i> else -- it was no one’s fucking business but his own.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>..:::||:::..</p>
</div>Morning recess arrived without fanfare, but unfortunately <i>the fanfare</i> decided to arrive during morning recess anyway in the form of the fucking soccer team. Self-important jocks were at the top of Andrew’s <i>Most Annoying Things About High School</i> list. It was one of the reasons he’d actually agreed to join the host club, actually -- because by being a member of this club he’d effectively cut off the soccer team’s attempts to recruit him.<p>Not that they still didn’t get stupid and try anyway from time to time. </p><p>“Andrew!” Kevin Day was not the captain of the soccer team because, despite his borderline-supernatural skill on the field, even his own <i>team</i> couldn’t fucking stand him. </p><p>“Day, how many times do I have to tell you -- stop coming to pester my hosts during our private club time.” Allison’s voice was hard and her gaze steely. Andrew leaned back in his chair, plenty willing to just watch the show and enjoy the bloodbath. Allison did <i>not</i> approve of Kevin Day’s attempts to recruit him, Jeremy, and Seth back toward the soccer team. </p><p>“Oh Ally! Let him be!” chimed Nicky, hopping up from the couch and beaming over as the soccer players. “It’s not like we were doing anything anyway. Besides, we can use this time to talk about the Fall Gala!”</p><p>Andrew gave a sigh that was heavy with disappointment. Allison could fight back but if--</p><p>“He’s right, Ally, it’s okay,” said Jeremy, smiling that golden smile of his. Allison caved, because of course she did -- but at least Andrew got to watch Kevin blush and stumble all over himself the second Jeremy turned that megawatt smile on him. </p><p>At four inches over six feet tall with the immaculate form of a student athlete who took obsessive care of himself, sharp green eyes, and dark hair cut <i>precisely</i> to highlight cheekbones that no one really had the right to have, Kevin was the picture of high school superiority. He was attractive, intelligent, athletic, and had the status of his father being the principal <i>on top</i> of his mother having been a world-renowned scientist before she died. He was also an asshole, but most people didn’t seem to care when they had all of that to sigh over. Of course, <i>most people</i> didn’t get to see him turn into an utter doofus whenever Jeremy Knox smiled in his general direction. </p><p>“J-Jeremy. Hey. So. I mean. <i>Hey.</i> Thanks. You. Yes.”</p><p>Jeremy laughed, all sunshine spun into sound. Kevin grinned like an idiot, at least until his best friend gave him a hard jab in the side. </p><p>Jean Moreau was just as tall but instead of floating around on a cloud of arrogant superiority, he wore his own arrogance as a shroud of dark brooding. He was a man made of angles with deep-set gray eyes that always seemed filled with some kind of brewing storm. Andrew spent half of his eighth grade year morbidly infatuated with him and was very, <i>very</i> glad he was now out of that phase. </p><p>“Sorry, Allison,” sighed Dan as she pushed her way through her players to the front of the pack. “I needed to come by to chat with you about the Fall Gala and when Kevin heard I was coming he decided to tag along.” Well, that explained it then. Dan was the captain of the soccer team and the only actual level-headed one of the bunch of them. Andrew didn’t interact with her much but he didn’t have a problem with her. He had to give her some respect by default for being able to wrangle them as well as she did, though. </p><p>“Where’s your puppy?” Allison asked, amused, looking from Dan to the jocks in her wake, looking for the largest member of the team who’d earned the affectation of ‘puppy’ by the fact that he was always trailing along after Dan, eager to please. </p><p>“Matt is putting the freshmen through drills,” Dan responded with a chuckle. “And you really shouldn’t call him that.”</p><p>Allison just shrugged. Andrew knew she wasn’t about to stop, especially since Matt himself seemed flattered to be considered Dan’s puppy.</p><p>As the girls meandered off to talk logistics, Kevin seemed to remember Andrew’s existence and pulled himself away from the host club’s own canine-themed member to zero in on him. Jean stayed with Jeremy as Kevin approached and Andrew pretended not to notice him, instead keeping his attention back on the book opened up on his lap. </p><p>“Andrew.”</p><p>Andrew didn’t look up or otherwise acknowledge him. Kevin put up with being ignored for a whole twenty seconds before he cleared his throat. </p><p>“<i>Andrew.</i> Come on, will you at least look at me?”</p><p>Nope. Kevin was stubborn, but Andrew was more stubborn, and he really didn’t want to put up with Day’s whining today. It was going to be such a damn <i>good</i> day before this walking hemorrhoid showed up, too, and he was going to salvage it as best as he could.</p><p>A hand came into view, fingers about to fold over the top of his book and tug it away when there was a new voice interrupting tersely from right behind where Kevin was standing. </p><p>“If he doesn’t want to talk to you, why don’t you just leave him the fuck alone?”</p><p>Kevin’s hand froze and Andrew’s gaze flicked up, skipping over the starting forward to instead hone in on the much shorter boy standing directly behind him, hands curled into loose fists near his hips. </p><p><i>Neil</i>.</p><p>Usually, Neil spent the morning huddled in the corner that Andrew usually used for his one-on-ones, working on schoolwork or studying. He didn’t even seem to register what was happening in the rest of the room and barely looked up even when Nicky was getting obnoxious. Andrew hadn’t known him to voluntarily participate before lunchtime since he’d been roped into joining the host club several weeks ago. </p><p>Now, he was in the middle of the room, glowering up at Kevin Day and looking very much like he was about to cut a bitch. Well, this would be interesting.</p><p>“Who the fuck are you?” Kevin sneered, looking Neil up and down like he wasn’t impressed. </p><p>Neil hardly seemed bothered. “Doesn’t matter. Why don’t you go bother someone else. Or, wait, are you that thick that you don’t realize that Andrew clearly doesn’t want to talk to you? I mean, if that’s the case I’m happy to spell it out for you.” Neil, that little asshole, lifted his chin and tilted his head, his expression going plaintively sympathetic, his tone mockingly gentle as he continued at a significantly slower pace. “He is ignoring you. This likely means that he does not want to talk to you. Ergo, you should <i>leave</i>.”</p><p>(<i>He would not think about how hot that was, he would not think about how hot that was, he would not think about how hot that was.</i> That was not hot. It wasn’t. Nothing sexy about that, at all. Nope. Not at all.)</p><p>“Why you little--” Kevin had turned toward Neil and was already stepping aggressively in his direction. Neil was already bracing himself for a hit that he didn’t intend to even <i>try</i> to avoid. </p><p>“Day.” Andrew barked out the word, his tone hard and punctuated with the slam of his book as he snapped it shut. “If you’re here to fail at recruiting me to your stupid little team again you can save your breath. The answer is <i>no</i>. The answer will <i>always</i> be no.”</p><p>Kevin turned back to him, letting out an agitated sigh. “We have a good team this year, Andrew, but we could be better if you--”</p><p>“He said no, are you fucking deaf?” Neil interrupted again, apparently forgetting (or just uncaring) that he’d almost gotten his face beaten in by someone a foot taller than him the last time he’d opened his smart mouth. </p><p>Kevin glowered at him and jabbed a finger a bit too close to Neil’s bared teeth. “This has nothing to do with you.”</p><p>Neil’s lip peeled back and he looked at that finger like he’d actually bite it. As amusing as that would be to see, Andrew didn’t feel like escorting both of them down to the nurses for tetanus shots, so he sighed gustily to get their attention back on him. </p><p>“It does, actually. See, Neil is <i>depending</i> on me to introduce him to the world of sweets. If I join your little team, I can’t possibly do that, now can I?”</p><p>This seemed to throw Kevin off completely, which was the intent. The jolly green jerk blinked, then frowned at him before saying, “You really shouldn’t be eating all those sweets. You’re still doing that? One day your metabolism is going to quit out on you, not to mention heart disease and a number of other long term health issues.”</p><p>Neil blinked, then frowned, then looked amused as he looked from Kevin to Andrew. “He’s serious, isn’t he? This is a thing for him, huh?”</p><p>“Got it in one,” Andrew conceded, impressed. Kevin Day had been harping on him about his penchant for sweets since they’d met back when he was in sixth grade, Kevin in seventh. It was something they would never agree on. Like soccer, apparently. </p><p>Kevin frowned at him. He frowned at Neil. He looked between them, frowning. However, when he opened his mouth he was prevented from saying anything else by a sudden shout from Dan, who was calling her team to order so they could head to practice. Kevin shut his mouth and glared at him. He glared at Neil. He glared between them for a moment, then turned and stalked back to his teammates because he was as predictable as he was infuriating and the only thing that mattered to him was soccer. </p><p>Neil remained where he was and watched him go before turning to Andrew. There was a beat of silence where it almost seemed like Neil was going to say something, but he never did. Instead he just gave a small smirk, saluted him with two fingers, then returned to his corner. </p><p>Andrew’s gaze followed him until he was situated, then he returned to his own books. It was only after he’d already picked up his book and had it opened to the page he’d been on that he realized that this was the second time in about as many weeks that Neil had crossed the room to come to his defense, whether he’d needed it or not. </p><p>Not wanting to think about that, though, Andrew pointedly focused on the chapter he was working through and blocked out the rest of the room.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>..:::||:::..</p>
</div>It was <i>finally</i> lunchtime.<p>Andrew was the first person out of his classroom and the first club member to reach Music Room No. 3, which was the goal. He knew that Neil would be there as quickly as possible with the rest of the club trickling in throughout the first ten or fifteen minutes, and he wanted to have everything set up before they got there. The very first thing on their lunchtime agenda for today was going to be Neil’s realizing that The Perfect Confection was, in fact, perfect. He’d already waited all damn day and he didn’t intend to wait any longer than absolutely necessary.</p><p>Except when he got to the small kitchenette attached to their club room and opened the fridge where he had placed the confection <i>just this morning</i>... it was gone.</p><p>He looked at the empty shelf for a long moment, then he closed the fridge. He waited, then opened the fridge again, and it was <i>still</i> empty of Perfection. Which just… wasn’t right. It was not <i>correct.</i> This was wrong. </p><p>Andrew frowned and shut the fridge again. This time he waited a full minute before opening it, just in case that changed anything. </p><p>It didn’t. </p><p>Then, though he didn’t <i>think</i> that’s where he’d put it, he checked the freezer. It wasn’t there either. </p><p>Maybe one of the kitchen staff had relocated it when they’d brought up their lunch orders. He didn’t know <i>why</i> they would do such a thing, but it was the only other option he could think of. </p><p>So he called down to the kitchens and spoke directly with Miss Lucy. </p><p>Nothing.</p><p>Unsatisfied with that, Andrew marched down to the kitchens himself and checked each fridge, freezer, cooler, shelf, cabinet, and cart.</p><p>
  <i>Still nothing.</i>
</p><p>By the time he got back to the club room, lunch was halfway over and Andrew was certain that not only had the treat, had <i>his</i> treat, been stolen, but it had been entirely consumed as well. There was no way that it was still intact somewhere within the school, waiting for him to come rescue it. It was too late. He knew it. He could <i>feel</i> it. Moreover, the kitchen staff definitely hadn’t taken or even seen it -- if they had, they’d have told him, he believed that -- which meant that it wasn’t some sort of mistake. </p><p>Someone had deliberately broken into the club room and stolen it. </p><p>But <i>who?</i></p><p>Despite what some extremists might have thought, Andrew <i>was</i> a reasonable man, and so before he did anything else, he <i>asked</i>.</p><p>“Alright, who did it?” Perhaps it was more of a <i>demand</i>. They were already well into the second half of their lunch hour, which meant that the club room was filled with the entirety of their club as well as a plethora of clients and floating students who came by for lunch and to study while socializing even if it wasn’t with a particular host.</p><p>“Hm? Oh! Andrew! There you are!” Nicky waved energetically from where he was seated, surrounded by giggling girls Andrew very well knew his cousin had no actual interest in, even if the overly effervescent Junior was currently in denial. </p><p>Andrew didn’t answer him and instead glared about the room. He narrowed his gaze at each club member except for Neil -- who was the only one he fully believed would never have taken it. “I said, <i>who did it?</i>” he said, this time a bit louder, keeping his voice even but no less deadly for it’s lack of distinct emotion. </p><p>“Who did <i>what?</i> Andrew, you’re making absolutely no sense.” Allison stepped forward with a sigh, one hand on her hip and the other wrapped around her ever-present clipboard. </p><p>“This morning, I brought a very special confection to school in a floral glass bowl. I put it in the fridge. It is now missing. So. Who took it?” His gaze landed with accusation on Nicky. He and Aaron were the most likely culprits because they were the only ones other than Neil who’d actually known what he’d brought in today. </p><p>Nicky looked nervous, but that didn’t tell him much. Nicky always looked nervous when he glared at him. </p><p>So Andrew stalked over to him and stared him down. Nicky had a spine made of Swiss meringue; if he’d been the one to do it, he’d crack on his own with enough pressure. </p><p>When Nicky whimpered but didn’t crumble, Andrew turned instead to Aaron, but dismissed him even quicker than he had Nicky. If Aaron had done something to spite him he wouldn’t have been able to hide his smugness. He probably would have given himself away the second Andrew had come into the room and he wouldn’t have been able to resist a comment once under scrutiny. </p><p>From there, Andrew went to each member, applying the right kind of pressure to each person until he was sure that it was none of the actual club members. Only once he’d seen to everyone did he finally turn to Neil, but not because he thought he might have actually taken it.</p><p>“Did you see or notice anything?” If Andrew had learned anything about Neil Josten, it was that he was a paranoid little fuck. If anyone would have noticed something… <i>off</i>, it was Neil. </p><p>Neil frowned and Andrew waited patiently as the other boy thought through the morning from when <i>he’d</i> last seen the confection to the beginning of lunch, when Andrew had discovered it missing. After about a minute, Neil shook his head and Andrew gritted his teeth against the disappointment. </p><p>Allison heaved a sigh. “Is it really that big of a deal, Andrew? I mean, it’s just some kind of cake or something, right? You can just make it again another day. So what if someone saw it and had a snack?”</p><p>The bitch didn’t get it and Andrew wasn’t going to waste his damn time attempting to explain it to her. Instead, he ignored her and turned, heading for the door. He didn’t respond to anyone calling after him, though several members tried. </p><p>He was going to find the fucker who did this.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>..:::||:::..</p>
</div>Lunch eventually ended and Andrew had no other choice but to postpone his search until afternoon recess. He was tempted to use the time while people were in their afternoon classes to raid the various club rooms, but he had a test in one of his classes and the teacher of the other was an absolute tyrant he wasn’t willing to argue with about ditching.<p>Besides, he’d promised Bee he wouldn’t ditch this year (unless he absolutely needed the escape) and he intended to keep that promise. </p><p>It was a good thing he’d decided to go to his classes, though, because if he hadn’t he might have missed his big break. This break came in the form of one Neil Josten, who dropped a note on his desk on his way to sharpen his pencil halfway through their Geometry test. </p><p>The script was a tightly-packed scrawl that somehow managed to be perfectly legible and it said:</p><p>
  <i>found some info - wait for me after class</i>
</p><p>Andrew did not want to ‘wait for him after class’. He wanted to charge across the room and demand this <i>info</i> right here, right now. Then he wanted to hunt down the culprit and confront them. But he waited. He attempted to focus on his test, but spent most of the time tapping the eraser of his pencil against the surface of his desk, making the pencil bounce so then the graphite point would hit on the other side, making a small mark on his paper. Over and over, until his paper was covered with the freckles of his impatience. </p><p>Finally -- <i>finally</i> -- the period ended and Andrew was out of his seat before Neil was finished standing. </p><p>“Well?” he demanded. </p><p>Neil just nodded and glanced around, then gestured for Andrew to follow him out of the room and into the closest alcove. They didn’t sit in either of the big orange armchairs and instead stepped into it just enough to avoid the traffic of students heading off to wherever they would spend their afternoon recess. </p><p>“I overheard two guys talking about some mysterious treat that showed up in their club’s refrigerator before lunch,” Neil finally said once they were away from prying ears. </p><p>Andrew’s jaw clenched, but he didn’t interrupt, only nodding for Neil to continue.</p><p>“They ate it all, saying it was the most delicious thing they’d ever had.” Neil didn’t pull his punches as he delivered the news -- but Andrew already knew this. He’d felt it in his bones. HIs confection was gone. Of <i>course</i> those imbeciles had loved it, it was <i>perfect</i> -- but they hadn’t deserved it, it wasn’t for them. </p><p>“Who were they?” he ground out.</p><p>Neil’s eyes, as sharp and deadly as blades of eyes, glinted with a kind of lethality that might have made Andrew pause if he didn’t find it so damn attractive. “They were members of the soccer team.”</p><p>Of course. Of-fucking-<i>course</i>.</p><p>“I am going to fucking kill him.”</p><p>Neil smirked, and it was a dangerous expression in more ways than one. “After class I asked one of the guys where I might be able to find a certain starting forward if I was to want to talk to him during afternoon recess.”</p><p>Andrew felt a tight curl of a smirk tugging at the edge of his own lips. </p><p>“Well then, let’s not keep him waiting.”</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>..:::||:::..</p>
</div>They entered the Rosenwood Library side by side, pushing open the double-doors with enough fanfare that even the group studying at the tables in the loft looked down at them. Andrew ignored the stares entirely and even Neil seemed to only give a cursory glance around before shrugging them off. Then the other boy nodded toward the corner and Andrew followed the gesture to find their quarry.<p><i>Aha.</i> </p><p>Kevin didn’t seem surprised to see them, but he didn’t afford them the proper attention either, glancing over at them only briefly before he turned back to the notes he had laid out in front of them, comparing them to a massive tome that looked as if it had to be at least a hundred years old. </p><p>Andrew felt his jaw twitch in annoyance and began moving forward, Neil only half a step behind him. </p><p>“Day!” He didn’t bother attempting to keep his voice down or disguise how well and truly <i>pissed</i> he was. He had put fucking <i>time</i> and <i>effort</i> into that treat, dammit -- and even if he hadn’t, it was <i>his</i> and no one had the right to touch what was his. No one had the right to <i>take</i> what was his. </p><p>The starting forward’s head shot up and his expression shifted to something more serious as he seemed to realize that Andrew wasn’t here to fuck around. He said something to the other people at the table with him and stood up, rounding it to meet Andrew as he approached. </p><p>“What do you want, Andrew?”</p><p>“We can’t always get what we want, Kevin,” Andrew hissed, stopping just far enough away so that he wouldn't have to crane his head back to look up at him. Fucking tall people. </p><p>“What’s that supposed to mean?” Kevin was frowning in confusion and Andrew wanted to punch his stupid face.</p><p>“It means, Kevin, that what I wanted was to enjoy a very particular treat that I made. I brought it to school this morning and put it in the fridge of my club room in a clear floral glass bowl. My intention was to be able to enjoy this very particular treat this afternoon at lunch and I was unable to do that, Kevin. Do you know why?”</p><p>Andrew watched realization dawn on Kevin’s face and he knew that he and Neil had been right. </p><p>“Why would I know that? I’m not a member of your ridiculous club.” Kevin was attempting a dodge but Andrew refused to permit it. </p><p>“‘Liar’ is a bad look for you Kevin, you can’t pull it off very well. Try again.” He watched Kevin’s eyes track the movements of his hand as he brought it to rest at the edge of the armband hidden under his sleeve. Kevin had seen him pull knives too many times in middle school not to know what that motion meant. The terror in his eyes as the offensive moron gave a shaky swallow was incredibly satisfying. </p><p>“Andrew, look, I didn’t intend for this to happen…”</p><p>“No? Then what, pray tell, did you intend? I am listening, Day. What did you intend to happen when you stole what was mine?”</p><p>“No! I meant. Andrew, I was just so pissed off about this morning when your weird little bodyguard--”</p><p>“Hey..” Neil protested from beside him, but Kevin ignored him. </p><p>“--jumped down my throat for absolutely no reason--”</p><p>“..wasn’t for no reason, you arrogant, belligerent--”</p><p>“--so I just grabbed it on impulse when I saw it. I swear, I was going to return it at lunch time, but then I got caught up and by the time I got to the soccer team’s club room the team had already found it and it was <i>gone</i>.”</p><p>Neil was still muttering under his breath and as much as Andrew was curious about those mutterings, he was here for a reason so he kept his focus on Kevin. </p><p>“Of <i>course</i> it was <i>gone</i> you moron,” he shot back with a sneer. “It was fucking <i>Perfection</i>. You had no right to touch it. It was perfect and it was <i>mine</i> and you had <i>no right!</i>” He was yelling again, though this time it was in a much less controlled shout. He could feel his pulse throbbing like a jackhammer against his throat, choking him in time with each furious slam of his heart against his ribcage as his temper rose. Andrew usually had an incredibly neat grip of control around his temper -- around <i>all</i> of his emotions -- even when he was pulling his knives. </p><p>This was not one of those times. </p><p>Right now he just wanted to scream. He wanted to trash the fucking library. He wanted to <i>break things</i>. That confection was <i>his</i>. His. This was supposed to be a <i>good day</i>. He had been genuinely fucking… fucking <i>excited</i> about having Neil try it and seeing if he liked it. It had been <i>his</i>. </p><p>“Andrew.” The voice was lower and closer than Andrew expected it to be but for some reason it didn’t startle him. It was calm but cold, steady but on edge, controlled but bristling and ready to act. When Andrew turned his head he saw Neil remained exactly where he’d been standing throughout all of this. He hadn’t attempted to touch him or breach his space. He just stood there, waiting, calling to him, until he had his attention. </p><p>“You going to tell me to calm the fuck down, Josten?” Andrew hissed at him, turning more fully to face him. He was struggling to stop the runaway train of his aggression but it was still running on the tracks, losing speed but not quite quickly enough. </p><p>Neil didn’t flinch away. “No,” he said in that same calm-but-not-calm, steady-but-bristling tone. “You have every right to be pissed off, and you have every right to take it out on Kevin. I was only going to suggest we move this outside.” Neil’s gaze flicked around the room and in following the gesture Andrew realized at least part of the source for Neil’s tension. </p><p>The whole library was <i>forcefully</i> aware of the confrontation and several older students had moved forward as if to prepare to intercede. The library door was also still open and it was incredibly likely that someone had already dashed off to grab a teacher. </p><p>Neil was fine with them getting in a fight, apparently, he was just trying to even the odds a little bit. Andrew almost agreed with him, almost turned to Kevin and demanded that they finish this outside, maybe down the block so they wouldn’t be on school property and thus eliminating the chance of faculty interfering.</p><p>Except… </p><p>Except Neil was a scholarship student, and Andrew knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that there was no way the idiot was going to let him do this without him. If there was even a <i>rumor</i> of Neil being involved in a violent altercation, especially as an instigator, against another student, against <i>the principal’s son</i>, it wouldn’t matter if it had happened on school property or in fucking Uzbekistan -- he could lose his scholarship. </p><p>Andrew couldn’t let that happen.</p><p>So he took a slow breath in and cast one more scathing, vicious look at Kevin that was apparently potent enough to make the arrogant jerkoff take a step back, then he whirled and headed for the doors. He paused only once, right as he reached the doors, to make sure that Neil was following him out, then took them all the way back to their club room. </p><p>Once there, he stayed only long enough to announce that it was Kevin and that the fucker was to be banned from lurking around their club before leaving again.</p><p>He needed some fucking <i>air</i>.</p>
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  <p>..:::||:::..</p>
</div>Somehow, Andrew wasn’t surprised to hear the light scuff of footsteps behind him after being on the roof for only about ten minutes. No one had ever come after him <i>before</i>, and even if someone wanted to -- they really had no reason to know where he was. And yet… somehow, <i>somehow</i>, he’d almost been expecting the company.<p>“Are you out to steal my things now, too, Josten?” he drawled dryly after only a quick glance of confirmation over his shoulder to be sure his pursuer was who he thought it was. </p><p>Neil paused in his step. “Do you want me to go?” The other boy’s tone was light, unbothered. Somehow (<i>somehow, somehow</i>) Andrew fully believed that if he told Neil to go, he would. He wouldn’t ask any questions, wouldn’t hold it against him, he’d just… <i>go</i>.</p><p>But Andrew didn’t want him to go. He sighed and looked out across the sprawling campus and propped his cigarette between his lips so he could pick up the pack sitting on the ground beside him and shake out another stick. He held it up -- an offering and an invitation. </p><p>There was the soft shuffle of footsteps behind him, drawing closer, then slim fingers plucked the offered cigarette from his hand. Andrew couldn’t help but notice that Neil had managed to do so without actually touching him, just as he noticed how when the other boy sat down beside him he did so while preserving a comfortable foot or so of distance between them. It wasn’t an awkward or cautious distance -- just a respectful one, and it was annoying as fuck how easily Neil was able to just grant that fucking <i>consideration</i>. Like it was no big deal. Inconsequential. </p><p>Instead of passing over the lighter, Andrew lit it and held it up, watching as Neil leaned forward and cupped his hand around the flame. When he pulled back, the end of the cigarette was glowing a dull orange. </p><p>It was a few minutes before either of them said anything, but it wasn’t an uncomfortable silence. Finally, Neil said, “Will you teach me how to make it?”</p><p>Andrew looked over at him with a frown, only to find that Neil was leaning back a bit, his arms draped loosely around his knees, face turned up to watch the clouds drift lazily across the sky. “Make what?” he asked. </p><p>“Your ‘Perfection’.” While Andrew attempted to piece together a motive behind such a ridiculous question, Neil finally looked over at him and his expression wasn’t teasing or mocking or even playful. He was being completely serious. </p><p>“Why?” Andrew frowned. He didn’t get it. “You didn’t even get to try it.”</p><p>“No,” Neil said with a shrug. “But you consider it perfect. That means it’s something you like.”</p><p>A little bit more than <i>like</i>, but okay. He still wasn’t getting the idiot’s motivation here. </p><p>“Right… but why would you want to know how to make it?”</p><p>“I want to try it. Especially after today’s bullshit. Fuck them for ruining your plan. If I end up liking it, I’ll know how to make it again. Even if I don’t…” He shrugged again and looked back up at the sky. </p><p>Andrew watched as Neil seemed to think through his words, picking and choosing what he wanted to say. He’d never admit it out loud, but it was fascinating to watch the thoughts play across the other boy’s face, even if he had no idea what they actually were. His brows would furrow delicately, then his lips would purse. After a moment, his face relaxed into a small smile and he sighed before looking back over at Andrew, who didn’t bother to hide that he’d been staring. </p><p>“Even if I don’t end up liking it, I know that <i>you</i> do.”</p><p>It took a moment, because Andrew’s brain was kinda short-circuiting at the image of Neil showing up and presenting him with a homemade confection that he’d made <i>just for him</i>. He could see it overlaid across his real-world vision like the haze of a fever dream: Neil, smiling shyly as he held out the bowl, a dimple flashing in one cheek and a light blush of pink streaked across the bridge of his nose from cheek to cheek -- <i>’Andrew? I hope you like it.. I made this for you…’</i></p><p>Andrew coughed and quickly cleared away the ridiculous fantasy, his face feeling <i>way</i> too hot. Fuck he hoped he wasn’t blushing. He didn’t blush. No. He resisted the urge to touch his face to confirm. </p><p>“So?” he finally barked out, his voice harsher than he’d intended, but that was way better than the fluttery way his breath was dancing around in his lungs like it forgot what it was supposed to do in there. </p><p>“Because it’s something that you like. You deserve to have the things you like, Andrew.”</p><p>Against his better judgement, Andrew gave into impulse and looked over at Neil again to find that his expression was still utterly serious. There was an intensity in those blue eyes that made the butterfly breaths fluttering in his chest do fucking cartwheels and he hated it. </p><p>“Oh? And you want to give me those things?” he asked, making his tone dry and mocking. </p><p>“Yes.” Neil didn’t even fucking <i>hesitate</i> with that answer. Who the fuck <i>was</i> this kid? He couldn’t be real. This, right here, was not a real-live person. Andrew didn’t know what to fucking do with him. </p><p>He scowled. “I hate you.”</p><p>And <i>now</i> the weirdo smiled. It was a small smile that softened his eyes and only barely touched his lips, but Andrew had been paying <s>too much</s> enough attention to the idiot to recognize the smile when he saw it. </p><p>“I know,” he said simply with an unbothered shrug. Then: “Well?”</p><p>“Well what?”</p><p>“Will you teach me how to make it?”</p><p>Oh fuck, he’d really been serious. Neil wanted to come over to his house and learn how to make this particular sweet? Because Andrew liked it? </p><p>Clearly a glutton for punishment, Andrew snorted and said, “Sure.”</p><p>Neil grinned, and the butterflies were now setting of fireworks like it was the fucking Fourth of July right behind his breastbone. “Great. And when I come over we can plan our revenge.”</p><p>“Re...venge?” Andrew <i>almost</i> stammered, he was so thrown off. He <i>didn’t</i>, but it was close. </p><p>“Well, of course. Those self-righteous lazy fuckers stole our treat, you didn’t think we were just going to let them get away with it did you?” Now he was smirking, and Andrew’s mouth was dry.</p><p>He swallowed, but his throat didn’t seem to want to work properly. Words like ‘<i>our treat</i>’ and ‘<i>we</i>’ were bouncing around between his ears like over-caffeinated rabbits. </p><p>Neil wanted to come over, make sweets, and <i>plot revenge</i> with him. </p><p>“‘Course not,” he heard himself say, and he’d never been so thankful to hear his own voice be steady as he was in that moment. “We will get them back for their transgressions.”</p><p>Neil beamed in approval and gave a nod, then returned his gaze upward to the drifting clouds. Andrew watched him for a moment, then followed his gaze because, well -- there was nothing he could do about it now.</p><p>He was so, utterly and completely, <i>fucked</i>.</p>
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